The Truth Untold
by Lucivar
Summary: It is in the unexpected that we find the truth. It is in the truth that we find an answer. It is in an answer that we find hope. The unexpected brings hope, and for Harry that hope could mean the difference between another death and a fulfilled life.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Well, I don't own any of it. Except the plot line, that is mine. And, on my other stories, I don't own that stuff either. I always forget this disclaimer. I mean, don't people know that J.K. Rowling wouldn't type fanfiction? Isn't that an accurate assumption to make?

I own the plot. This is a prequel to "The Beauty of Magic" so if you haven't read that story, I would suggest it. However, it does come after this so if you don't want the ending partly ruined, I would just wait until this is complete and then puruse on over there.

**Dedication:** This chapter goes out to Cory-- For my first, full length, Harry-Pansy fic! You didn't really turn me onto the ship, but you definitely fueled the obsession!

**Thanks:** Well, first of all to Grace for being a brilliant beta! I hope she sticks with me through out this story and the next! Also, to Lillie, who isn't reading this until she gets back from vacation, but lookie! I am sticking to canon!

CHAPTER ONE:

Pansy Parkinson spun around in her black office chair waiting. Just waiting. Her honey colored hair spun out in all directions and her face held one of the few smiles that anyone would see during these hard times. Her sage colored eyes sparkled with laughter and she squealed as she let go of the seat and put her arms out wide beside her; losing her balance Pansy flung off the chair and into the wall behind her desk causing various pictures to crash to the ground around her.

Any man would be hard pressed to call Pansy beautiful, she had rightfully earned the nickname "Pug-faced Parkinson" back at school; with a small nose and high cheekbones her face was out of proportion, while her hair color and eye color clashed horribly. On their own her features were stunning, breath-taking, but together they just made her face look squashed.

Back in school Pansy was simply a name without a face, the girl who clung to the arm of the infamous Slytherin Sex-God Draco Malfoy, and nothing more.

That all changed when she turned seventeen, their seventh year at Hogwarts, most students didn't go back. Pansy was no exception.

There came a knock on the door and Pansy looked up from her perch at the door just as it opened and a dark haired man came in.

"Parkinson, what the bloody hell are you doing on the floor?" he asked, coming over and taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk.

Pansy smiled up at her boss and crawled back into a standing position. Moving herself back into her chair she spun it around to face the man in front of her.

"Just having a little fun, Roger," she said tugging on the front of her lavender blouse and straightening it up. She opened her right desk drawer and pulled out the report she knew Roger had come here for. He was a work-a-holic and reminded her slightly of a bushy haired, know-it-all, Gryffindor from her youth. He had dark brown hair, dark eyes, and was hardly ever seen without a lab coat on and a smile.

"Well, do a little less of it on the job," he said with a slight smirk and an amused tone; it wasn't everyday Pansy was less than perfectly mannered and working diligently in her office. Standing up and moving around her desk, Roger picked up a few of the pictures that had fallen down off the wall, while Pansy watched him out of the corner of her eye while she triple-checked the report sitting on the desk in front of her.

Roger's sight lingered on a set of newspaper clippings as he placed the picture of her and Millisent Bulstrode back on the wall. Ever since the war had begun Pansy had kept a record of the deaths of people she knew. She watched as Roger fingered the edges of the silver frames and as his eyes flicked quickly over the curly scroll that The Daily Prophet used. She somehow managed to hold back the wave of tears that after nearly three years still threatened to poor down her cheeks.

Roger adjusted a frame so it hung straight before moving back around the desk. He looked at Pansy with confusion masking his features and she desperately tried to hide her face by staring down at the perfect report; she didn't need to correct it, but anything was better than facing the man in front of her.

Roger looked at her and waited to see if she would say anything. When she didn't he sighed and leaned forward against her desk. "Pansy, who are those people in the newspaper clippings. There is almost a new one up every month."

Pansy sighed as she capped her ballpoint pen and pushed the report towards Roger still avoiding eye contact. She turned and opened her lower left hand drawer. pulling out a shoe box.

"What's that?" asked Roger eyeing the box curiously. He had a feeling of dread in his stomach for what he might find.

Pansy slid it across the table and lifted her eyes to Roger's. Tears clouded her green eyes and Roger gulped as he opened the box. Looking down in it he didn't know whether to be relieved or shocked; it was simply more newspaper clippings, but that meant more people had died. More people, judging from her tears, that were important to Pansy.

Roger pulled a few out and quickly read over the curly scroll that matched that of the ones that had earned a place on the wall.

"Ron Weasley, aged nineteen, was brutally murdered at the scene of another muggle attack by Death Eaters. He left behind a loving wife, Hermione Weasley, and four family members that have survived thus far: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Percy Weasley. Rumors have leaked that Percy Weasley is secretly working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and…"

"Jessica Sireon, aged eleven; Martha McKenna, aged eleven; and Stephan Gray, aged twelve, were found dead just outside of Flourish and Blott's. Sources say they were shopping for school books when Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley. The first year students, who would all be starting Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this fall, were brutally murdered…"

Roger sat their shocked before turning his attention to the final clipping he had pulled out of the box.

"Draco Malfoy, aged sixteen, died after suffering no less than twelve rounds of Unforgivable Curses. It is suspected that he failed You-Know-Who. He left behind future fiancé Pansy Parkinson who was destined to marry the Malfoy Heir after their graduation from…"

He looked up at Pansy who had pulled the box away from him as he was reading. She clutched it to her chest as unshed tears began to fall from her green eyes, rolling down her cheeks, and leaving water droplets on the clippings.

"Pansy," he stated lamely. He had no idea what to say to her. He knew she was a witch, knew she was in hiding, all of that had been explained to him when he had hired her at the young age of seventeen, but the reason why had always been a mystery to him.

He had often wondered why Pansy was such a diligent worker, who almost never left her dark, second floor office, and very rarely smiled. He had often asked her to smile, saying it was bad for one's health not to, but he often got glared at and told to mind his own business.

Roger raised his eyes about to try speaking again when a very peculiar sight caught his attention. He stared past her at the window and pointed his hand towards it. Pansy looked up at Roger and tensed knowing exactly what she would see when she turned around.

A black owl with a letter attached to its leg hooted rather loudly and Pansy spun her chair around, stood up, and opened the window. The owl hopped down and stuck out its leg for her. Taking the letter she sat back down and the owl was gone in a blur of black feathers.

Pansy winced as she saw the seal, dark black with the Black crest, and a clipping from a newspaper which had landed next to it.

Pansy picked up the newspaper clipping and nearly fainted as a fresh flood of new tears poured down her checks. She didn't even turn her attention to the note, just opened the top desk drawer again and pulled out her wand. In a flash and a pop she was gone, leaving a very confused Roger in her wake.

Roger leaned across the table and picked up the note twirling it in his fingers admiring the care that someone had taken when sealing and addressing it. He broke the seal and read the note before dropping it and moving on to the newspaper clipping. When he was done he placed both items in her shoebox, closed the lid and placed it in the center of her desk.

Roger was about to leave the room, he had his hand on the doorknob, when he heard a familiar popping noise that meant Pansy had returned. He turned around to find a puffy eyed Pansy staring at him.

"W-Where did y-you put them," she asked, her voice breaking as she fought back sobs.

"There in your box."

Pansy nodded and picked up the shoe box. tucking it under her arm. "Thank-y-you, Roger. F-For every-thing."

Roger nodded and left the room closing the door behind him. He didn't need to stay to know that Pansy had probably apparated before more tears came. He also knew he wouldn't be seeing her for some time.

Pansy rolled over as the moonlight filtered through her apartment window and across the hard wood floors. She looked at the clock on the mantle. 11:57. Three more minutes of hell before she would be free to run. Run to the one place she has always considered safe.

It would be a matter of hours before Death Eaters showed up at her door. Mid morning attack; she just had this feeling. Pansy stretched in front of the fireplace and twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. She had no tears left in her at the moment, just questions.

Why her? Well, she knew the answer to that one. It was no secret among the Death Eater ranks that since the horrible torture and murder of Draco Malfoy that she had turned against them. She never particularly had a problem with Death Eaters or their take on the world, but that all changed when her future fiancé was killed.

Many thought she only hung around Draco because she wanted the power and attention; and they thought he only hung around with her because she was a good lay. Of course, neither of those Rumors were true, but both allowed rumors to float around. Rumors did nothing to them.

Why her family? That was a simple answer too. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named always attacked those who mattered most to a person. It was a way to make them weaker, to make them not want to live anymore. But it wasn't going to work. Not on Pansy.

She was going to fight back.

Midnight struck and Pansy turned towards the clock. Her face paled, but she was determined. Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder with all her supplies, clothes, and that old shoe box tucked safely into it.

Pansy appeared exactly where she wanted to be; lights glittered in the background and Pansy turned towards the place that she had called home for six long years.

**End Notes:** There you have it! The first chapter. This is a prequel to Beauty of Magic, so read that if you haven't. And review! Good ones will be appreciated, critiques taken into consideration and welcomed, and all bad ones laughed at. Please, have fun!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: Still the same as the previous chapter. I own nothing but the plot.

**Notes:** Thanks once again to Hazel for being a super speedy beta-reader! You guys are lucky that I have seven chapters of this done, and maybe before school starts I can get nine. Unfortunately, NaNoWriMo is coming up in November and that means Erin and I have a lot of preparation to do getting the unofficial New Mexico branch set up and get the support groups ready! That will take up most of my time once October hits, so sorry if after that updates don't come in until the New Year. I will try, with all my might, to get this done before October.

CHAPTER TWO:

Strolling the castle corridors at night had become something of a habit for Harry Potter over the last year. Ever since the death of his best friend, Ron Weasley, the darkness and solitude brought by the old castle became a sort of sanctuary for him. The only light that he ever needed was given to him on rare occasions when the full moon was bright enough to filter light throughout the corridors, and shadows would dance along the stone walls.

It was a wonder Harry ended up here. After his sixth year, after watching Dumbledore murdered by none other than Snape, after all the things Harry had learned about horcruxes and tearing apart ones soul, he had sworn never to come back. It held too many painful memories, and, to be quite honest, he thought his time was better used finding and destroying the last four horcruxes.

The only problem was the locket of Salazar Slytherin.

It was the one horcruxes that Harry had yet to discover, and apart from the note he had found three years earlier he had no clues as to where it could be. All he had were initials.

Harry turned a corner and found himself near the entrance of the old divination classroom on the first floor used by Firenze. He smiled nostalgically at the memories that the old wooden door brought to him; memories of happier and easier days.

Back in fifth year Harry honestly hadn't thought things could get much worse, especially after the death of his Godfather, but he figured even at the young age of fifteen he should have known better. He snorted at how naive he had been all those years back. If he had any idea this is where he would end up…

_You would what?._ questioned a voice in his head. Harry sighed and sat down on a window seat that faced the front lawns of Hogwarts, leaning his head against the window pane. It was cold against his temple.

The voice in his head, which sounded an awful lot like Hermione, was right. He would have done nothing differently. The losses he had suffered, and the horrors he had seen, they were all necessary. He hated to admit that, especially since Ron's death, but it was true.

In war there were sacrifices. No two ways about it.

Harry stared out of the glass for what felt like hours, but when the clock struck midnight he realized he had been loitering for about half an hour. That was when he saw it.

A dark figure scurrying up the front lawns of Hogwarts, in such a rush it seemed the person had not seen it necessity to hide itself. Harry leapt up thinking it was a Death Eater getting ready to attack the castle. It had been known to happen, after all.

But then another thought struck him. Why on earth would one lone Death Eater attack them? Harry didn't waste much time, but muttered the spell that released the fifteen simultaneous locking charms on Hogwarts. It was something that Hermione came up with, and as of yet, no Death Eater could bypass. It consisted of locking all students in their dormitories; allowed that no door be opened; sealed all secret entrances; and finally had some weird seal slip over the windows. Harry had been amazed by it, as had much of the Order.

He moved back towards the window and peered outside as the dark figure came rushing up the stone steps towards the front doors. The small stature of the figure suggested that it was a women, but from this distance, and at this time of night Harry couldn't be too sure.

Almost as soon as the figure reached the top of the stairs there was a loud knock on the heavy wooden front doors that resounded through-out Hogwarts and would surely wake up any Order members that were currently sleeping on the first floor. Startled, Harry looked towards the door as if surprised someone would be knocking even though he had just seen this person cross the lawns and mount the steps.

"Harry, what the blazes is going on," asked Remus Lupin, coming to stand behind Harry with his wand out and his features rumpled from sleep.

Harry turned around quickly, and sure enough most of the Order members who had bed chambers on the first floor, and some on the second like Tonks, had come running at the sound of the knocking.

It came again and all of them turned back to the door.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and raised his wand muttering the reverse spell for the locking charm.

He heard a squeal from behind him and pinned it instantly as Ginny's. She was one of the few Weasley's left and fought along side him in the Order. Of course, nothing truly romantic had happened between them since his sixth year, however, there was a definite attraction.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look down into the brown eyes of Ginny. "Harry what are you doing?"

Her voice was laced with fear and determination. He knew none of them would falter if he were to open the door, knew that they would stand their ground, but also knew none of them wanted him to do it.

He shook her arm off and stepped forward pulling on the handle of the oak door using most of his strength to make it budge. After a few moments of vain attempts Harry gave up, and with a flick of his wand opened the giant doors magically.

The sight that met his eyes was one that he had not expected. A girl that must have been around his age, nineteen or twenty, was bent over her knees using them to keep herself up right. Blonde locks fell over her face hiding her identity. She was dressed in typical muggle clothing of jeans and a black t-shirt with a black cloak draped over her shoulders.

It hadn't been raining but her hair was slicked to her head with sweat as if she had been running for days and her clothes were muddy. There also seemed to be a bag that she had dropped on the ground beside her when she was attempting to catch her breath.

Murmurs broke out behind Harry, but no one rushed forward to help their house guest. As she straightened herself up Harry felt his jaw drop to the floor. There was no way she, a known worker with Death Eaters, had just appeared here.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall" she said, brushing some hair out of her face to reveal dark green eyes that were bloodshot, and looking past Harry into the wide eyes of Hogwarts current Headmistress. "Just the woman I wished to see."

**End Notes:** Well, there was Chapter Two. Like I said, NaNoWriMo takes up a lot of my time this time of year, and I am really sorry if I don't complete this by October. Unfortunately, I will have to work a lot on getting stellar marks in classes, too, so that when crunch-write time comes I can slack off with ease.

I love you guys who review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Notes:** Oh my gosh! Chapter Three! Aren't you proud. Thanks to Rosie for reading this para moi; and yes, I just mixed three different languages in one sentence.

CHAPTER THREE:

Harry watched as she sat down in one of the leather chairs in the Headmistress' office and made herself comfortable. He could not believe that a woman who had loathed all those years in Hogwarts, a women who was known to be in line with Death Eaters, had been allowed to step foot in this castle.

Harry cast her a glare and she held up her hands as if in surrender. "No worries, Potter, I come in peace."

Hermione snorted from the corner and Remus nudged her with his elbow as if telling her to be quite. There were five of the most top Order members present at this meeting, excluding Minerva, for protection. None of them knew what to expect when someone like her showed up on their doorstep.

Professor McGonagall stepped around the desk and leaned back against it crossing her arms in front of her. She looked down at Pansy as if she had broken a school rule and was awaiting a proper detention.

"Tell us, Miss Parkinson, why are you here then?"

"Shouldn't it be Mrs. Malfoy," stated Harry from by the fireplace.

Pansy whipped her around and was out of her seat faster than any of the Order members could pull out their wands. Harry held up his hands and the four delayed wands that were pointed at Pansy's back were lowered.

Pansy held up her left hand. Her left ring finger was empty. Turning around she moved back to her seat leaving a very confused Harry standing near the fire. After a few moments he huffed and crossed his arms turning his head towards Professor McGonagall. What gave her the right to come in here and act as if she owned the place again.

"Miss Parkinson," pressed Professor McGonagall.

Pansy sighed and reached for her bag. She glanced up slightly only to see that all five of the Order members, Harry, Hermione, Remus, Fred, and George, had their wands on her. Sitting back up, bag clutched to her chest, Pansy looked at them.

"Do you honestly think I would try and attack when I have six Order members breathing down my neck?" she asked looking at each one of the individually. She reached into the side pocket of her bag and pulled out a pony tail holder. "I am not that stupid."

This time one of the twins snorted as she pulled her grimy blonde hair into a messy ponytail.

"Miss Parkinson," Came Professor McGonagall's stern voice. Pansy could tell she was beginning to get annoyed. "Please tell us why you are here."

"Yeah, or we'll throw you out in the cold," said Hermione glaring down at the blonde hair Slytherin thinking that was the best idea.

Pansy turned her head and smiled. It was a smile that made everyone in the room nervous and from where he was standing Harry he could see something in her eyes glint.

"You can't throw me out, Miss Granger, or rather, Mrs. Weasley. Dumbledore offered protection for anyone who sought it. I doubt he would want to find out you are throwing those of in need of it out on the streets."

Harry crossed to the room and leaned against the arms of Pansy's chair, his face mere inches from hers. "You know nothing of Dumbledore or his policies; and I doubt you are in need of protection from us. Can't Voldemort offer you ample protection from harm?"

Pansy pushed Harry's hands off the chair which caused him to stumble backwards into Professor McGonagall. Her voice took on a cold edge as she stood up and crossed to the fireplace where Harry had been standing only moments before. She felt everyone's eyes follow her movements, but at this moment didn't care.

"I know more than you think, Potter," she said, staring down into the fire. The orange flames licked the logs that never burned down. She turned around to face the room and took a deep breath.

"Professor," Pansy stated addressing the gray haired witch, "I am willing to tell you and Potter why I am here. The rest, I'm afraid, have no business knowing my secrets."

The room was instantly in an uproar, but after a few minutes of protesting Professor McGonagall managed to get all the Order members out into the hallway, with their ears pressed against the door of course. She turned back around to see that Pansy had sunk to the floor in front of the fireplace while Harry was leaning against the arm of the chair she had vacated.

Harry looked at Pansy closely wondering just what she was doing here. He meant what he said earlier when he thought the Dark Lord could offer her all the protection she could possibly need, but it seemed that maybe he was the very thing she needed protection from. Though, for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out why.

It was no small known fact, especially after Malfoy had been killed, that she had been engaged to him. He always figured they would end up married and always believed rumors that the only reason they were together was because of power, sex, and money. There was nothing more important to pureblooded families like theirs.

"Well, Miss Parkinson, can we end this charade now?" asked Professor McGonagall, taking a seat behind her desk and lacing her fingers together.

Pansy nodded her head slightly but refused to look up at either of them. She raised her hand up in the air and flicked her hand and her bag suddenly flew from Harry's feet to her arms.

"Wow," said Harry before he could stop himself. Pansy looked up at in him surprise, the tear stains evident on her cheeks. "How did you do that?" he asked a little more poised than a few seconds earlier.

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "I've been living as a muggle for two years Potter. I can do simple magic without my wand. It is a bit harder to trace."

Living with muggles? That was definitely the last thing Harry or Professor McGonagall expected to hear. As Pansy dug through her bag Professor McGonagall shared a confused glance with Harry. He shrugged. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Living with muggles, Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy nodded. "It was arranged by my father after Draco's murder." She let a sigh escape as she pulled what looked like an old shoebox out of her bag and opened the top frowning at what she came face to face with first.

Harry was speechless. He was in shock. This girl was a Death Eater. She was engaged to the son of the most ruthless Death Eater of all time. There was no way she would live with muggles unless it was to infiltrate something important and kill them.

Pansy seemed to sense Harry's unspoken unease. She twirled a piece of paper in her hands that looked a lot like a newspaper clipping. "I'm not going to lie to either of you. I was a Death Eater." With that sentence she slid up her left sleeve to reveal a shadow of the Dark Mark burned into the skin on her forearm. Professor McGonagall winced and Harry looked sickened.

"Then why come here? Why seek help? You just admitted you were a Death Eater!" shouted Harry standing up to his full height and yelling down at her.

Pansy stood up quickly and took a few steps forward. She wasn't any where close to being as tall as Harry was, but she was menacing when she needed to be. "There is something about watching the man you love being tortured to death. It makes something snap inside you, makes revenge the foremost thought in your mind. But that would have made me like them and at that point. I never wanted to be like them again!" Pansy jerked her sleeve up more and shoved her arm in Harry's face. "We all make mistakes, Potter. I plan on fixing mine!"

Harry took a few steps back and looked at Pansy; a filthy Slytherin. He didn't trust her. She was definitely up to something. Her kind just didn't feel remorse or loss, they killed without a thought, and there was no doubt in his mind she was here to do the same.

"Here," she said, shoving the piece of paper into Professor McGonagall's hand without ever taking her eyes off of Harry. "That will appear in the Daily Prophet in a few weeks time. Now do you mind if I stay here for the night?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes quickly scanned over the curly text and her eyes bulged. She quickly shook her head. "You can stay up here tonight, Ms. Parkinson," said Professor McGonagall suddenly, dropping the article on her desk and motioning her hand to a door adjoining the office. "It is all fixed up for any unexpected visitors that might have shown up."

"I suppose I count," said Pansy following the Headmistress into the adjoining room with her bag and shoebox in hand. The newspaper clipping lay disregarded on the desk.

"Liam Parkinson, aged forty-seven; Molly Parkinson, aged forty-four; and daughter Sophia Parkinson; aged nine, were found dead in their home when long time family friend Lucius Malfoy showed up for afternoon tea. According to Mr. Malfoy he was invited over for tea to discuss the engagement of the couple's eldest daughter, Pansy Parkinson, aged nineteen, to another pureblood wizard by the name of Blaise Zabini. Since Ms. Parkinson was originally engaged to Mr. Malfoy's son and heir it was his job to hand her over to another, deserving family.

"They were covered in blood; it looked as if they just had been cut to pieces, except their bodies were still fully intact. It's sickening. I have no idea who would do this. They were a wonderful family," stated one source, who seemed truly upset about the loss of the Parkinson's.

Pansy Parkinson, it seems, has not been seen since the death of her fiancé, Draco Malfoy, and it seems no one knows where to find the girl…"

Harry picked up the newspaper clipping and noticed a small note flutter down from behind it. The edges were burned away in a perfect manner and a black wax Black family seal had been carefully opened so as not to tear it.

"You're next, Pansy" Was all that it said. Harry threw the item back on the desk, disgusted, as if he might contract some disease just by touching it. He let out a deep, un-amused chuckle; this was all some twisted plan to get her to infiltrate their higher ranks. Harry knew the dirty woman was up to something, he just knew it.

He stormed out of the office past all the worried faces of friends and didn't stop until he was in the sanctuary of his room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Ok, so I am uploading chapters four through eight all today and you all need to thank Brittnay for that inspiration. Yay Britt. Okay, on with the story. As always, I still don't own the characters and I never will.

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

Pansy awoke the next morning with a start, beads of sweat plastering her hair to her forehead and tears fresh in her eyes. She rolled over and flipped the blue sheets off of her; it seemed that Professor McGonagall had raided the Ravenclaw tower for bedding.

Her feet hit the cold stone floor and she let out a hiss of discomfort. Wiggling her toes Pansy let the bottom of her feet adjust to the temperature before standing up and padding over to the window. From here she could see the east half of the grounds which included part of the lake and the quidditch pitch. A smile flittered across her face as Pansy got an idea and turned back around to the trunk that was in front of her bed.

The spare room was equipped with everything a sudden guest might be seeking and for that Pansy was grateful. It was equipped with two standard double sized beds, both with the same dark blue bedding and silver pillow cases, and a trunk at the foot of them. It had a small wooden table in the corner with a chair, presumably out of one of the old classrooms, complete with initials and little phrases like "This class bites!" carved into it.

Pansy had to admit it was a nicely decorated room of good size and the adjoining bathroom was a plus. If there was one thing Pansy hated about the dorms it was the communal bathroom she had to share with six other girls her age, all of whom wanted to spend no less than an hour primping themselves.

Pulling out a pair of black sweat pants and a green Slytherin long sleeve t-shirt she had made custom at a muggle shop in London she ran into the bathroom to get dressed. She pulled off her pajamas and decked herself out in her outfit; she was a true Slytherin to the core and never gave up a chance to display her house pride.

She had to admit she loved the t-shirt she had made and was even nice enough to explain to the woman at the shop just what Slytherin meant. Of course, the old woman had thought she was crazy and charged her less in an attempt to get Pansy out of her store. She might scare away customers.

The shirt was deep emerald green that matched her eyes perfectly, or so said the nice lady's husband when she was trying to decide on a fabric, and had Parkinson written across the back in silver lettering. On the front, just above her left breast, was the Slytherin house crest. It was very Pansy.

Looking at herself in the mirror Pansy couldn't help but smiling, even in such difficult times. She was back at the one place that made her feel at home. Not to be mistaken, Pansy loved her actual home back in Ireland, but she was different from her parents and her sister. They accepted their roles in the world and she did not.

The thought of her parents and sister made tears well up in Pansy's eyes and she scowled at her reflection. She would have sworn she would be all out of tears by now, grieving yes, but crying? It was getting ridiculous and Slytherins just didn't cry; it wasn't part of the code of conduct.

Whipping her hair back into another pony tail Pansy slipped out of her room and out of the Headmistress office. She let out a sigh of relief as she wandered the familiar corridors just happy to be away from people. She knew getting the Order to trust her was going to be difficult, but necessary.

Hermione sat up in the stands of the quidditch pitch, with a book in hand, watching the first rays of sunlight peek over the eastern horizon, waiting for Harry to come out for his morning training. It was necessary for Harry to spend his time at Hogwarts attempting to find and destroy horcruxes, all the while gaining more intelligence on upcoming Death Eater killings. The only thing that truly kept him here, according to Hermione, was the quidditch pitch.

It was where he taught first years how to fly and referred the quidditch matches through-out the season. It was his first love and nothing, not even war, was going to keep that from him. Harry needed some sort of escape, and while Hermione had always thought he should be a bit more focused, especially after her loss of Ron, she knew he needed a way to release energy, a way to keep him calm.

After last night Hermione was even more worried for Harry and his well-being; over the years he had somehow managed to keep calm in most situations, taking everything in stride, but last night he had snapped once again. Not that she really blamed him. The wife of a deceased Death Eater had showed up at Hogwarts (which undoubtedly sent memories of sixth year through everyone's heads) begging for refuge.

Hermione still thought that Parkinson should have been thrown back out in the cold, it was what she deserved. She had chosen her side years ago, like they all had, and now it was time to start paying the consequences. There was a time when Hermione Granger, resident Know-It-All, Head Girl, and member of the Dream Team, was the logical one, the forgiving one, the person who would give anyone a second chance. That image was shattered only a year earlier.

The death of Ron had affected Hermione in ways that no one, not even Harry, could begin to understand. He had always been there and embodied everything Hermione wanted in a man. He was passionate, argumentative, and while he drove her up the walls sometimes it was only because he loved her so deeply he wanted to protect her from all harm.

He had a brilliant mind and a way of predicting moves by the enemy, but he hadn't been able to see what was coming his way. He had no idea that the raid on a muggle town in northern Scotland had been a trick, a trap, a scheme to kill one of the last important things in Harry's life.

And Harry. He was another sore subject for Hermione all together. After Ron's death, at the funeral, Harry was unshakeable. He didn't grieve, didn't cry, just muttered some nonsense about sacrifices in war and pushed on. He didn't pause for one second to think about the death of Ron or what Ron gave up for him, to help him win this war.

A figure slowly marched down the sloping grass lawns of Hogwarts causing Hermione to sit up in her seat and place the book she'd brought out with her in her lap. From far away she couldn't make out the figure, just that it was female in stature, but Hermione didn't know any females besides herself that would be up this early in the morning.

As the sun rose higher over the horizon and the small figure came closer Hermione suddenly noticed blonde hair and a green and silver shirt. Pansy Parkinson. Hermione sneered at her approaching form, mentally cursing her for disrupting the one place where Hermione, and Harry, could get a way to. What gave her the right to waltz in here and act as if everything was normal; as if she were back in school and had free run of the campus.

Pansy crossed the quidditch pitch, her trainers soaking through from dew on the grass, towards the supply shed. She hadn't packed her own broom as it was too big and at the time seemed a rather pointless item to bring. She could smell the rain that must have fallen only a few short hours early. It was a fresh smell, a clean smell, one that reminded Pansy so much of home…

No, not home. She wasn't going to think of home anymore. This was her new home. Or it was for the time being…

Hermione leaned forward against the railing in the Gryffindor stands and watched as Pansy mounted the old tattered Comet broom and shot up into the sky. She seemed a bit shaky at first, as if flying was a new concept for her, but in a few moments she had steadied herself and was lazily flying from one end of the pitch to the other weaving in and out of the stands and goal posts.

Hermione let out a frustrated growl when she realized that Pansy wasn't planning on leaving the pitch anytime soon and stood up. Marching very angrily back down to ground level she left the pitch and headed back up towards the castle to see if maybe, by some luck, there was a quiet place up there that no one knew about. It was just her luck that after all these years Slytherins still hadn't grown up and learned to stay out of the Gryffindor's way; they all simply wanted to cause trouble.

Flying was an amazing feeling to Pansy, relaxing even. Not much in the world could relax Pansy, allow her to let down her guard and forget all those prim and proper rules that had been drilled into her head for nineteen long years. Flying was a graceful form all its own that did not require knowing which fork to use or what color dress robes to wear in the summer or winter. In flying nothing mattered except the broom and the rider.

Harry strolled down towards the quidditch pitch with his broom leaning against his shoulder; it was a morning ritual, one both he and Hermione-- who for some reason always pretended to read while watching him do drills or chase after a snitch he'd nicked from the supply closet-- needed.

It was a way to let go of all emotion: anger, guilt, depression, even happiness. Nothing existed except for him, nature, and magic. On a broom the world was simple. There was no war, no death, no expectations, nothing. Just freedom.

Freedom was something Harry really wished he could have right now, but at the same time felt selfish for feeling that. The world needed him, needed his guidance and his support and his strength, and all he really wanted was a vacation. A nice, long one, perhaps to Ireland or France.

He had given up on saying life wasn't fair a long time ago; that much was fairly obvious to him at this point in his life and all he had left to do was accept it. His path was set for him, no two ways about it, and no matter what choices he made they would ultimately all be for the downfall of Voldemort.

Harry took a left at the lake, deciding to take the long way to the pitch. Hermione could wait. _We all make mistakes, Potter. I plan on fixing mine._ For some reason what Pansy had said the night before was skating around Harry's head followed closely by similar words spoken by Dumbledore in his sixth year. find quote

Harry snorted and switched his broom to his right shoulder. He supposed his mistakes were marginally bigger than everyone else's because they often resulted in death, and were more noticeable because of that scar on his forehead. As if by instinct Harry ran his free hand over the scar, his fingertips tracing the raised edge.

He had made those mistakes before, the kind he wished he could fix, could somehow make better, but that was impossible. You couldn't bring someone back from the dead. Their deaths were his fault, but what was he supposed to do about it? Nothing. Move on. Risk more lives trying to defeat and enemy who clearly didn't want to be defeated.

The sun had fully risen now and Harry was squinting his eyes as he made his way east trying to prevent himself from going blind. He was jarred from his thoughts when something slammed straight into his chest; as if by reflex he moved out his free hand to catch Hermione before she completely lost her balance.

His brow furrowed as she struggled out of his hold and continued at her quickened pace up towards the castle. Surely her day couldn't already be ruined. Classes hadn't even started for the day so she didn't have to teach the lower level Charms groups and he hadn't been informed of any new Death Eater movements.

"Hermione!" he called after her. She went on her way ignoring his somewhat panicky tone. Harry sighed as he spun back around. Ever since the death of Ron…

The death of Ron. That was one of those mistakes. He knew he shouldn't have sent Ron or his team of aurors into the battle, he knew it was a trap, he had this feeling; but Ron had pressed and Harry had agreed. That had gotten him far.

It just didn't feel real. It still didn't. Everything, all the deaths, all the battles, none of it seemed to be apart of reality; it shouldn't be apart of reality. It was too harsh and cruel. No one should have to face half the horrors that these men and women faced weekly, sometimes daily, just so he could get a final duel with Voldemort.

Hermione and him had grown apart, that much was true. They often fought when they were out of ear shot of others. About anything. Hermione would pick fights with him the way she once had with Ron almost as if she was trying to replace him, trying to fill the gap that was left once he had passed.

Once again Harry's train of thought was interrupted only this time Harry saw what it was that hit him and instantly over-rode his seeker reflexes and watched with a humored smile as Pansy fell to the ground.

"Wow, what a gentlemen," said Pansy as she picked herself up and dusted off her knees, "I can see why the ladies swooned over you at Hogwarts."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. Was she trying to be funny? No. That would be impossible. Slytherins never bantered with Gryffindors.

"Sod off, Parkinson," he muttered pushing past her towards the quidditch pitch. Harry walked for a few steps when he realized she had just come from the direction of the pitch herself. Harry spun around to see she had already continued on her own path towards the castle. "Did you do something to Hermione!" he shouted after her.

Pansy stopped. Turning around she looked at Harry wondering for a brief second if he was serious in asking her that. Judging by the protective look in his eyes he was. "No."

"Are you sure?" he asked taking a few cautious steps towards her as if afraid she might hex him at any moment.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Yes, Potter, I'm sure. I haven't seen Miss Granger--" Pansy paused before correcting herself, " Mrs. Weasley, since early this morning." Rolling her eyes once more she turned back towards the castle, retracing the familiar path towards the stone steps. "And stop looking so worried. I'm not going to hurt you!" she called over her shoulder.

Harry watched as she turned away still doubting that she had done something. While they had been merely ten or fifteen feet apart he still couldn't make out her eyes well enough to see if she was lying. Then she said he was worried.

"What makes you think I'm worried!" he shouted, anger taking an edge in his voice.

"You tell me!" she called back in response. Her voice was calm, but her blood was boiling. She knew that her past choices and current standings would make it hard to gain anyone's trust but the way Potter was treating her, as if her sole mission was to make his life a living hell, was beginning to rub her the wrong way. He honestly wasn't that important to her and shouldn't flatter himself so; he just was not worth her time.

Pansy took a deep breath as she continued walking. She was here for her own reason, for her family, and she needed to keep her temper in check. Yelling at the "holier than thou" Gryffindor was not going to help much.

Harry growled. She had no right to mess with him this way, asking silly questions and making stupid assumptions. Jogging he caught up with her and grabbed her left arm spinning her around to face him.

"I have no reason to fear you, Parkinson," he said, bringing his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath as it spread over her cheeks and down her neck. "It is you that should be worried."

"Let go of me."

Harry didn't let go. "What did you do to Hermione?" he questioned, his eyes scanning hers waiting to catch her in a lie, to prove that she meant harm to them, that she was on the wrong side of this war.

But her face and eyes remained blank, completely devoid of emotion. For a woman who had supposedly lost her family, the last thing that was supposed to matter to her, her face and eyes were calm. Her light sage eyes searched Harry's darker emerald ones in return.

"Nothing." Her eyes stayed locked with Harry's. No slight twitch, no glancing anywhere else, just locked onto his eyes that so many said reminded them of Lily. Harry frowned; not people could stand to lie to straight to someone and the thought that someone could made him sick. His grip tightened on her arm.

"Liar."

Pansy chuckled. "Slytherins do not lie, Mr. Potter," she said in a even tone. When Harry let out his own bark of skeptical laughter she expanded. "We exaggerate."

Harry stopped laughing, stopped trying to mock her, and looked down. Pansy gave him a brief, but sincere smile before wrenching her arm out of his grasp. She resisted the urge to rub the spot where his fingers had wrapped around her flesh and knew there would be bruises and simply walked past him and up the final hill before turning at Hagrid's old hut to make her final climb up to the stone steps.

Harry watched as she disappeared, furious once again. Her little charades were getting annoying and she needed to be stopped. Unfortunately that meant figuring out just why she was sent here and what information she would be leaking to the Death Eaters.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE:

The silence was deafening, packed with unasked questions and laced with fear. Torches burned strong in the corners casting an orange glow over the entire room, causing an eerie presence to wind its way through the sterile white room. Harry watched as people, healers and visitors, worked their way in and out of the room; none of them saying a word as they side-stepped each other to do what needed to be done. It was as if each person was invisible to everyone else, existing solely in their own tiny world.

The figure in the bed was unmoving. Harry stood in the corner with his hands shoved in his black slacks pockets resting against the wall. He had given up using his old invisibility cloak to sneak into the war wards of St. Mungo's; he had realized that no one noticed him anyways. They were all too caught up with their own duties and their own pain to notice his dark figure lurking in corners.

Her dirty blonde hair was memorable and her quizzical blue eyes which he knew were fluttering away behind her closed eyelids reminded him that his friends weren't free from harm. Her normally pale skin, now white against the starch white cotton sheets, reminded him that everyday people were dying because of him.

It was a horrible fate for anyone involved, but he had learned to accept his fate and theirs a long time ago. This was the path they had all individually chosen to follow and they all had to face the repercussions of that decision.

A warm voice startled Harry out of his musings. He turned see Pansy standing next to him, her eyes memorizing the sight in front of her, the sight of the woman in the hospital bed. She had been staying at Hogwarts, just hanging around, for almost three weeks now and he had gotten no closer to figuring out what her purpose was.

It seemed her schedule never changed. He had later discovered that she had been out flying the morning that Hermione had stormed off and it was something he could find her doing every morning at precisely 5 a.m. It seemed she was used to a strict schedule and he was amazed by that, much to his own dislike. It made him wonder what sort of life she was used to leading and he never hated his curious nature more than these past few weeks. He had to constantly remind himself that she was a Slytherin, a Death Eater, and he had to keep a tighter rein on his reactions around her.

Unlike Pansy, he had noticed, he couldn't keep a calm and neutral face in any sort of circumstance. She never looked surprised, or shocked, or angry; just calm. It was aggravating because she had this protective wall built around her and Harry had yet to figure out how to break it down. He needed that wall down to figure out why she was here, but he knew that meant getting close to her, pretending he trusted her, and that just wasn't going to happen. There had to be some other option.

He turned his eyes back to the bed just as its occupant began moaning calling the attention of the nearest healer. "What did you say?" he asked watching as the healer muttering a calming spell; the patient couldn't swallow potions yet to stop the pain so the only thing to be done was calm her heart rate and keep her outbursts quiet.

"I said, 'She'll live'" repeated Pansy looking at Luna Lovegood will wide eyes. She had always thought the girl insane, and she probably was, but she was a fighter; that earned respect from Pansy.

Harry pushed off the wall and made his way towards the bed. She looked so fragile and lifeless. "No, she won't." Harry ran his hands over the milky white skin of her inner left forearm, an action which made Pansy visibly shiver. He looked up at her. "Why are you here?" His voice was cold and devoid of all emotion.

Pansy dropped her eyes to the floor and straightened out her plain black robes. After living as a muggle for two years robes were a strange thing to wear, but it was part of her image, always had been, and she had slipped back into her pureblood witch role with ease. She mumbled something to the white and gray checkered linolium floor.

"Come again," prodded Harry not knowing whether to be amused or shocked that her defenses were down. His voice had grown somewhat softer, maybe she would let him in on her own.

"To write an article," said Pansy, her eyes snapping back up to his and her shoulders straightening up. Her wall back in place. "I needed to see the patient and talk to some healers for information."

Harry looked stunned. He didn't move or speak for a few moments. Pansy moved across the room to the nearest healer, as if to prove her honesty, and began asking questions about Luna's conditions. The healer looked at Pansy quizzically as if wondering whether or not to trust her, one had to be careful these days.

"Please ma'am," said Pansy her impeccable pureblood manners showing through, "I am a reporter and any information you gave me would help ensure that the story is correct and filled with truth."

The healer's eyes narrowed for a second, but she nodded her head in agreement. "The patient is Luna Lovegood; she is nineteen years old; her injuries include blood poisoning, deep liaisons, minor cuts and bruises, and hallucinations," the healer offered. Pansy nodded her head occasionally taking notes on a notepad that she had picked up off the desk before her.

"A reporter?" said Harry skeptically as Pansy moved back towards the bed and began taking observations of Luna.

"Yes," said Pansy without looking up. She was currently placing the back of her hand against Luna's hand. Her skin had barely held contact with Luna's for a second before she pulled her hand back as if she had been burned.

"Why do you need to be a reporter?" asked Harry.

"Money. Nurse," called Pansy waving her hand to get the nurse's attention. "Did you know this woman has a high fever?"

The nurse nodded. "That's what causing the hallucinations."

"And what do you need money for?" interrupted Harry.

"Rent, Potter," she replied in an irritated voice; it was the first time Harry had heard any emotion at all in her voice. She turned to the nurse, placing one of her hands on her hips while the other was used to punctuate what she was saying. "And have you not tried to lower it? A fever this high could cause brain damage or worse, kill her." Harry's eyes dropped back down to Luna's from; he had told Pansy she was going to die.

"Without her being able to take a potion there isn't much we can do," said the nurse before turning away.

Pansy pursed her lips together and furrowed her brow. Quickly she watched as the nurse on duty disappeared into a back room, most likely to receive a potion for one of the other patients in the ward. She moved to close the curtains, but Harry stopped her by grabbing the white cloth in his own hands and wrenching them back open.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, suspicious of her actions. She probably was planning on killing Luna right then and there.

Pansy seemed to read the thoughts that were running through his head and she let out an agitated sigh. "Potter, honestly, I'm not going to harm her. You need to learn to trust people more." She reached over and smacked the back of his hand causing him to release the fabric and she pulled them shut once more. He opened his mouth to retort but she held up her finger which quickly silenced him, much to her surprise; of course, that didn't show. She pulled her wand out of her robes pocket and muttered a quick charm to produce a silent bubble around them.

Pansy smiled. "Now you can yell at me."

"I trust plenty of people, thank you," he said, his voice raising on every word, "it's just your type that I tend to be a little wary of."

"My type?" Pansy questioned raising her eyebrows at him. It was something she did whenever she was confused by a statement or thought a stupid question had been asked and it annoyed the hell out of Harry.

"Yes, your type," he started, "the type that ruthlessly kill people without a second thought, the kind that have hundreds of secrets to hide from others, the kind that only care about themselves."

Pansy's look instantly hardened and she forced back the urge to slap him for being so stereotypical with people. She instead just shook head and turned her wand towards Luna.

"What are you doing!" exclaimed Harry jumping forward and smacking her wand out of her hand.

Pansy turned towards him, anger evident in her features. It was a scary sight, Harry thought briefly, before Pansy started ripping into him and cutting him down to size. "Don't you dare touch me like that again, Potter, or I swear I will not hesitate in hurting you! I was going to save this young woman's life until you so rudely stopped me, and while you may not care if she lives or dies, I don't want to live with that on my conscience when I know I can do something to prevent it."

Pansy bent over to pick up her wand and turned her head back to Luna's form. She raised her wand and muttered a spell that was foreign to Harry and watched as a silver-purple light weaved its way around Luna before disappearing into her temples. Once the spell had finished Pansy raised the back of her hand to Luna's forehead and let out a reserved sigh.

"Slytherins don't have consciences," said Harry watching as Pansy restored the war ward to normal and ripped open the curtains. She thanked the nurse on duty for her help, promising to keep the article as close to the truth as she could, and left the room with a second glance back.

Her footsteps echoed down all the way down the hall to the elevators. Once inside the elevator she let her shoulders slump and her eyes drift close. The silence was welcomed but short, and soon she found herself on the bottom floor of St. Mungo's. She hurried out of the hospital and into the cold rain of November just needing to get away from that place. She hadn't been to that ward since Draco's death and she had no desire to go back.

She burst into a run and ran three blocks before turning into a dark alleyway. There she leaned against one of the stone walls trying to regain her composure before heading back to Hogwarts.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX:

Harry let out a frustrated growl before he began tailing after Pansy. This was the first time since she'd arrived that she had shown there was something more to her besides calm and understanding; that she had emotions beneath her rigid surface.

He watched her disappear behind the silver metal doors of the elevator and immediately headed left towards the stairs. Taking two at a time he barely reached the ground floor in time to see her disappear again into the pouring rain outside.

_She's crazy,_ he thought as he picked up his pace so as not to lose her. No one in their right mind would think about walking in this weather.

Running to stay up with her now she turned right into an alleyway, and fortunate for Harry, stopped there. He rounded the corner with apprehension; perhaps she wanted him to follow her so she could trap him and hand him over to Voldemort or his Death Eaters. A surprise attack, this is what this was.

But Harry was wrong. The only thing in the alleyway was Pansy leaning against a wall with her own guard down which wasn't the wisest thing in the world.

"You followed me," she said in a quiet voice that Harry almost didn't hear over the thunder.

"You never answered my question," he returned as if that was adequate reasoning for following an alleged Death Eater into a dark alley.

Pansy nodded in agreement. "Rent," was all she said. Her eyes were still closed and Harry could tell she was taking great care in concentrating on her breathing. Her chest was rising and falling beneath her robes in a steady beat and she alternated between using her mouth and nose to inhale and exhale.

He shook his head. What did rent have to do with anything. Pansy continued, "You don't honestly think I would encroach on your hospitality without paying you? That would be improper."

Harry realized that was a good point and wasn't surprised that a pureblooded Slytherin, even if on assignment for the Dark Lord would do what was proper.

"Harry, when will you believe me. I am not on some mission for Voldemort; I don't even like the man."

Harry's eyes widened. How the bloody hell did she know what he was thinking all the time? Every single time Harry had a wrong thought about her or something dealing with her purposes at Hogwarts, or every time he thought a question, she answered.

"You should have really listened to Professor Snape all those years ago; close your mind. You are open for attack."

Silence fell in the alleyway for a few moments and nothing could be heard except the steady beat of rain drops on the pavement and the steady breathing of Pansy. Somewhere in the west the sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon casting gold and purple hues along the wall behind Pansy causing her features to take on a strange glow. Something most men would notice made her look beautiful. Cars and people made their way hurriedly past the alleyway not noticing the two standing on a few feet away.

Outraged, Harry stormed forward towards Pansy grabbing both her arms and pining her up against the wall she had been leaning against. This time, however, Pansy didn't say anything and kept her eyes closed waiting for Harry to speak.

His breath was hot against her face when he spoke in a low, strangled tone. "Don't you dare speak of that man in front of me. Severus Snape was a traitor and a horrible man." Pansy couldn't tell if Harry was spitting on her due to the rain, but she had a feeling he was. "And don't you dare you use Legilimens on me. You have no right to read my thoughts."

He was breathing hard, clearly worked up, and his grip on Pansy's arm was getting tighter and tighter, but she refused to open her eyes. The pain she could mask, but looking into his eyes, eyes no doubt filled with hatred, would be much harder to handle.

"Did you hear me, Parkison," he demanded, his voice laced with contempt, after she had spoken a reply for quite some time.

Pansy nodded and added in a weak voice, "Yes, Harry."

If there was one thing that could floor Harry it was hear Pansy speak his name as if pleading for him to back away. All defenses were down and he knew this; and he had just enough time to use it. He instantly released her arms a took a few steps backwards to give her breathing room. Pansy opened her eyes and looked upwards towards the sky letting the rain pound down against her face.

"Do you know what today is, Potter?" she muttered quietly. It was getting harder to hear her as the storm grew in intensity over London.

He shrugged his shoulders. When she didn't respond he remembered she couldn't see him and said no.

"It's the three year anniversary of the start of the war." Harry looked at her incredulously. This war had been wagging on a lot longer than that. Since their fourth year if you wanted to get technical, and since the first rise of Lord Voldemort if you wanted to get philosophical.

"No, Pansy. It's been going on since fourth year." Pansy shook her head and lowered her eyes to meet Harry's. In those sage colored eyes he saw pain and fear and sadness, and something he didn't quite expect: determination.

"No, Potter, their war has been going on that long. Those who are only involved by being a witch or wizard or muggle, thats their war. My war has been going on since Draco was-" Pansy took in a gulp of air and forced back tears. "murdered." She finished lamely. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears and Harry took a step closer to her. "My involvement in this war dealt with Draco, I was always beside him, I would have done anything for him. The day _they_ killed him," she spit out 'they' as if it was some sort of foul swear word, "my whole life changed, my involvement in this war became proactive. Three years ago today I got involved in this war, it became my war, and I'll be damned if anyone gets in my way."

Harry took another step forward expecting her to continue, waiting for her to slip up and reveal why she was really here, but the look in those eyes made him question himself. Those sage green eyes made his heart drop and a knot in his stomach tighten; it was a feeling he had forgotten he could feel, a feeling he couldn't put a name on at the moment.

Pansy shook her head and leaned up from against the wall, tugging at the hems of her sleeves to make sure her black robes were hanging properly. Harry saw the defensive walls spring up around her and with a familiar 'pop' she was gone, presumably back in Hogsmeade and making her way up the rocky path towards Hogwarts.

Harry stayed rooted to the same spot for almost half an hour as the rain poured down soaking him to the bone and as the lightening lit up the failing night sky. One thought ran around his head leaving him completely dumbstruck.

"She called me Harry," he whispered to the darkness that was beginning to surround him as the sun dropped fully behind the horizon and streetlamps began to flicker on, "and I called her Pansy."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN:

The weekend flew past and Monday was upon everyone entirely too soon. Students and professors alike all rolled out of bed, unready to tackle the long week ahead of them, a few minutes behind schedule.

In the Great Hall the normal morning chatter was much quieter as everyone focused more on not falling asleep in there cereal bowls, rather than what the latest gossip was. Harry leaned back in his chair watching the hundreds of students eating breakfast. When his alarm had gone off this morning he had forgotten completely that he was a professor at Hogwarts and had a class of first year student to teach the basics of quidditch to second block this morning.

A distinct cough pulled Harry out of his musings and he peered to his right to see Hermione giving him a strange look. "You were late coming home last night."

Harry fought of the urge to roll his eyes at the motherly way Hermione had phrased that question. He simply nodded and took a bite of his eggs not really wanting to explain anything to her, and dreading the next question.

"Where do you go?" Harry shook his head and took another bite of cereal. She asked the same series of questions every Monday at breakfast and it was beginning to wear on his nerves. In fact, he had once even tried skipping breakfast, but the uproar that caused when students and staff thought he had been kidnapped in his sleep was not worth it. So he just ignored her most of the time, which did nothing for her temper or his nerves.

"He was with me Granger, calm down." Harry began coughing on his cereal and both women shot him looks: Hermione's of concern and Pansy's filled with amusement. Was she going to tell Hermione where they were?

Hermione was glaring at Pansy and behind her Harry shook his head very slowly. Pansy simply chuckled.

"With you?" asked Hermione, doubt filling her voice. Pansy nodded. She turned back to Harry who tried his best to wipe his face clean of any surprise or guilt that might be present, which just gave him a strangled look and earned him a doubtful glare from Hermione and an actual laugh from Pansy.

At Pansy's little outburst all heads in the Great Hall turned their argument. It was no little known fact that none of the Professors trusted Miss Parkinson so very little students did to.

"Why would she be with you, Harry?" asked Hermione directly questioning him, probably hoping Pansy wouldn't answer again.

She did. Harry looked up to catch her eyes noticing a slight mischievous twinkle in them that Fred and George had so often, before she looked at Hermione, eyes clear of anything. "Well, that's simple Weasley. Considering I am the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and, I don't know if you really remember how bad I truly was, I cornered Harry to ask from help."

Hermione didn't seem to notice that Pansy had just addressed him as Harry, but Harry sure did and looked at her with wide eyes. Pansy cast him a small smile as Hermione continued questioning her.

"Your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"I believe that is what I just said. Maybe you should get your ears cleaned out, Weasley."

"And you want Harry's help? Why do you think he would be best suited for the job?" asked Hermione in rebuttal, giving Pansy a triumphant smile as if she had just asked and unanswerable question.

Pansy laughed harder at this and looked at Hermione as she was some kind of idiot. "Well, maybe its just me, but I think the 'Chosen One' should be at least somewhat gifted in Defense, otherwise were all doomed and risking our necks for nothing." She smirked as the triumphant smile faded off Hermione's face. "With that aside, maybe it's the fact that he has gotten past the Dark Lord too many times to count, the fact that he had the DA back in fifth year, and numerous other things suggesting he is good at Defense. My first choice was Longbottom," she finished casting an amused glance at Neville sitting a few chairs away, "but he ran away terrified I might hex him."

Hermione's scowl got deeper. "And why would you two have to leave grounds to do this?"

Pansy opened her mouth, but for once, someone else answered Hermione's question. "I invited her to get a drink with me." Both of them turned to face Harry, and had he been watching Hermione instead of Pansy, he would have noticed the hurt look in her eyes.

"Why!" she yelled, standing up and waving her arms frantically, "why on earth would you want to do anything with this Death Eater!"

This time Fred and George made there way over to the scene, while Professor McGonagall, who had been seated next to Harry, and Professor Lupin, who had been seated next to Hermione took a stance in between the three not willing to risk what might happen if any of them snapped. None of them like Pansy, but having her killed in the Great Hall was not an option.

Spinning around towards Hermione and taking a threatening step forward, only to have Professor Lupin place a hand on her shoulder to hold her back, Pansy's features lost all of their mirth as she gave a hardened scowl at Lupin. He held her firm.

"I am not--" but she was cut off by Harry, who had shoved Professor McGonagall so hard in his anger that she had fallen back into her chair.

"She is not a Death Eater, Hermione, so stop calling her that! Now, if you must know everything that goes on in my life, though let me say it is none of your damned business, she asked me to help her with her classes on Defense Against the Dark Arts and offered some sort of payment in return. Naturally she meant money, however, since she is already trying to scrape by on a rent to stay here, I requested a drink and help with my own classes."

Everyone in the Great Hall fell silent and looked at Harry with wide eyes, wondering when he began trusting just anyone. Especially when that someone had admitted to being a Death Eater, but before anyone could do anything Harry placed a protective hand on Pansy's shoulder and began steering her towards the large doors that would lead them out into safety.

He heard Hermione burst into laughter behind him and if it hadn't been for Pansy placing her arm around his back to keep him from slipping her arm around his back, he would have rushed back to the Head table and wipe off whatever doubtful smirk was probably on her face. He was shaking with anger, but the heat radiating from the small of his back where Pansy's arm snaked around him was enough to turn his mind from Hermione.

The laughter that echoed around the Great Hall from Hermione instantly died out as the heavy doors closed behind them with a quiet "thud." Pansy led him a ways down the hall, out of the corridor that connected to the Hall. Her arm dropped back down by her side, but Harry could still feel the warmth that it had left there. It had been a simple gesture, a friendly one, to keep him out of trouble, but it made his stomach knot and his muscles involuntarily tense.

Feeling a sudden breath of wind pass him, Harry turned his attention to Pansy as she quickened her steps to get away from him. He reached out and clasped his hand around her left forearm, and instantly she tensed up, slowly spinning towards him. The face that met his held none of the laughter and amusement it had only minutes before, but was filled with anger and resentment.

She twisted her arm around a strange way and his grip broke. "Do not grab at me, Potter!" She spit out his name like it was venom on her tongue and he visually reeled backwards at her tone and mannerisms. This was a sudden change in demeanor, and not one he had expected.

His eyes locked with hers for a moment, familiar sage green eyes that he had grown accustomed to seeing around the grounds over the past weeks. He could see the fire burning behind them. "What are you yelling at me for?" His voice was calm, but both of them knew he was close to snapping. He had never been one to control his temper.

"I do not need you, of all people, defending my honor. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she said coldly, her gaze breaking from his and staring at something over his shoulder. "I do not some 'holier than thou' Gryffindor making a pity case out of me."

She cast one last glance at the thing behind Harry before giving him a curt nod and spinning away. Robes billowing out behind her in a very Slytherin manner she disappeared around the next corner, her footsteps slowly fading away.

A distinct laugh rang out behind him and Harry winced as he realized Hermione had just heard the entire conversation. Anger coursed through him as he spun around to glare at his best friend.

"Oh, yes, she is just oh-so-perfect and charming," laughed Hermione, her eyes practically glowing with that 'I told you so!' look.

His glare deepened and when he opened his mouth to respond his voice was low and cold. It was a voice that Hermione would never forget. "Hermione, do not speak to me." Harry brushed past her, side stepping slightly so as not to touch her.

Her face fell as she watched him walk away in the opposite direction than Pansy had only moments earlier, wondering if for once and all their friendship had shattered.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT:

The alarm went off at four in the morning. A loud blaring siren that echoed through the corridors, piercing a person to their very soul, waking them instantly, wide-eyed and filling them with fear. Students would sleep blissfully through unless the threat was great enough to warm them of an attack at which point Professor McGonnagal would mutter yet another one of Hermione's special spells to sound a less frightening alarm in the dormitories.

Harry sat up instantly, eyes searching through the darkness of his room. There was a strange feeling about and he knew someone was there, lurking; waiting for him to crawl out from beneath the covers. Harry snaked his hand beneath his covers under he felt the polished wood of his wand brush against his fingers.

His dark green eyes, clouded over with sleep and apprehension, snapped towards an old worn out leather chair that rested next to a bookshelf in the corner. A familiar red head was rested against the dark material and a distinct hic-cough sounded as the siren quieted down. Harry was instantly out of his bed and pulling Ginny into his arms as quiet sobs racked her body making her shake. Her head rested against his shoulder and he could feel the tears soaking through his night shirt. He rocked her back and forth slowly like he had many times in those first few months since Ron died.

"Ginny," he soothed in a calm voice, forgetting that it was the alarm that had awoken him, "what happened?"

She shook her head, and he could feel her jaw tighten as her hands clasped around his shirt to try and grasp at some form of comfort in these trying times. Harry pushed her head back and titled her chin towards so that her deep brown eyes met his darker green ones.

"Ginevra," he said, his tone pushing her to answer, "what happened? I need to know."

Harry was shocked by the next action, but didn't push her away when he felt her warm lips against his. Her lips were salty from the tears that had slipped down her face, but he found himself not minding in the least.

Her arms twisted around his neck, into his shaggy black hair, deepening the kiss and Harry could not stop the moan that escaped him. It had been three long years since he'd been kissed hungrily by Ginny, by any girl, and he could barely contain himself.

He felt himself leaning forward when she pulled away and frowned at her, completely forgetting that she had been crying only moments before. Then he looked into her eyes and saw the sadness that was settled there.

"Harry, I don't know how to say this," she said quietly, looking at him with what seemed like regret. Regret for someone's actions, perhaps her own.

Looking into her eyes, though, he instantly knew. Everything clicked into place and his heart fell. "Where did they take her?" His voice was filled with venom as he moved Ginny off of his lap and moved to his wardrobe to pull out a pair of black slacks, a black button down shirt, and his black tennis shoes.

Ginny watched as he stripped from pajamas and donned what she had classified as his "hunting outfit." He wore it anytime he went searching for something, and this time she knew he wouldn't be coming back until he found her.

She watched as he crossed to his bed and pulled on his shoes. He did everything with such a rhythm and she felt a familiar pain pull at her heart knowing that she had let him walk out of her life once before.

"Harry, please, listen to me. Hermione will be okay. Think about this before you go rushing into action." She was pleading with him, she knew this, but she couldn't bear to watch him walk out of her life again. Not when she was so close to getting him back; from their kiss a few moments before she knew she was right in thinking he still felt something for her.

Harry looked up at her as he pulled on his shoelace and the bunny-eared knot slipped into place. "Ginny, I've lost one best friend in this war. I am not about to lose another."

"You don't think I know that!" she screamed, her hands finding a place on her hips as she glared at him. "I lost him, too, Harry. I was there when he died, you weren't. Don't give me any of that losing bullshit."

Harry sighed as he stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Ginevra, I promise, I won't rush into anything. But, Death Eaters leave clues. I plan on searching the castle to find them."

Ginny eyed him skeptically before dropping her gaze. He smiled and pulled her in closer and dipped his head low until their lips met again. It was an amazing feeling and he had know idea why he had willingly given this up the first time. She did things to him, made him feel things he never had, and he had pushed her away. He smiled despite himself at his own stupidity.

Pulling away he pulled her in for another hug, feeling her tense up. He spun around to see Pansy Parkinson leaning against his door frame with her right hand above her head idlely twirling her hair in her fingers. A tight black velvet dress clung to her figure, hanging to about mid-thigh, and a black cloak was draped around her shoulders. Her honey colored blonde hair hung in loose waves around her face and her sage colored eyes were darkened with the same determination he had seen only days earlier.

He had to admit she had a perfect body, toned and thin, and behind the frail image that she put on he knew very well she could probably take good care of herself. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as his eyes grazed over her. Pansy Parkinson was the first person who was here not for him, not to defeat Lord Voldemort, not to make the world a better place. She was standing in his doorway because she wanted something for herself.

Harry found himself torn between finding such selfishness endearing or annoying. She was a complete mystery to him. She could be two completely different sides of the same coin in a span of seven hours.

"What do you want, Parkinson," snapped Ginny, pulling Harry out of his inner musing about the Slytherin woman in front of him.

Harry's hand automatically found its place on Ginny's shoulder, to pull her back and tell her not to start and argument, but his own fight with Pansy a few days previous caused him to simply rest it there as if in assurance.

Pansy smirked and pushed herself up off the door frame, taking a few steps forward until her thighs were resting against the opposite side of Harry's bed. He couldn't stop himself from looking at where his red sheets barely brushed the bottom of the black velvet material of her dress. Taking in a gulp of air he forced his attention to return back to the bitter conversation the girls were having.

"What do you mean you know where they took Hermione! You were apart of this weren't you."

Pansy rolled her eyes towards the sky and looked at Harry. "As I was saying before your girlfriend interrupted me, was that I have an idea of where we might find Hermione."

Harry looked at her skeptically, but nodded. He pulled away from the red-head next to him and moved towards the blonde across from him. He reached down in front of his bed and slung a bag over his shoulder, tugging at his black robes that were draped over the trunk next to his feet.

He heard Ginny let out a defiant laugh. "Harry, you can't believe her! She is one of them! I bet she is the reason Hermione is missing."

Harry kept his back towards Ginny and turned his gaze towards Pansy, raising his eyebrows to question her motives silently. She gave him a brief smile before spinning around and walking out the door, her black cloak slipping around her shoulders and sliding against the ground as she walked away. Harry followed her in silence leaving behind a fuming Ginny Weasley.


End file.
